


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Wolfsheart



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men AU-ish (mine)
Genre: Christmas, Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Stargazing, cabin in the woods, post-pregnancy Logan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsheart/pseuds/Wolfsheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Logan go up to the cabin for a private Christmas get-away before having to go back and face down the Christmas morning chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> Directly follows [Never Piss off a Telepath; Or How Logan Opened His Mouth and Said a Stupid Thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/316012), and is a part of my Logurt/Avengers series. Any stories that don't fall into this sequence will be labeled as not falling into it.

They’d forgotten the mistletoe.   
  
He carried the third bundle of wood up the steps to the wrap-around porch of the cabin, and his tail snaked around his waist to turn the antique knob on the door, opening it without a sound –  _Thankfully, Logan keeps the hinges oiled on this place_  – and slipped inside.  Kurt shivered out of habit, even though his light covering of fur kept him mostly warm in the winter...well, he wasn’t Hank, after all!...and he moved over to the pine and holly garland bedecked fireplace where he crouched down with the grace of an ocelot.  Carefully, he stacked the firewood on the stone hearth before plunking a solitary log on top of the low crackling flames that currently warmed the place.      
  
“There,” he said, more to himself than anyone else because...well, he and Logan were the only two up here in the secluded cabin, which they’d decorated simply in garland and holly and a small pine tree that stood on a table, strung with popcorn and cranberries and a strand of white lights and a dove at the top.  Kurt remained crouched there for a moment, listening to his heart beat faster with each loud pop and crackle of flames.   
  
He just wished they’d remembered the mistletoe.  
  
The sound of heavy work boots tapping snow away outside on the patio snapped Kurt out of his fire-gazing, and he blinked while looking over at the door in time to see a snow-dusted Logan walking in.  The pointy-eared mutant wondered how long he’d been sitting in front of the fire, and he stood straight up.   
  
“Ya know, elf...you amaze me,” was Logan’s greeting.  The older man carried in two pink... _things_  hung from a string, which he carried directly over to the sink, dropping them into the porcelain with a soft  _thunk_ .  “I saw ya out there...carryin’ all that firewood when ya coulda ‘ported it inside.”  Logan’s smile was amused and affectionate all at once, which he showed by peeking over his shoulder.   
  
Kurt returned the affectionate smile with a sheepish one while his hands dug deep into the front pockets of his jeans and lifted his shoulders in a shrug.   
  
“So...I carried the firewood in, Schatz.  I’m on  _vacation_ .  I don’t have to teleport,” he snarked and walked the six and a half steps from the hearth to the ‘kitchen’ – or rather the wall where an old stainless steel fridge and ancient gas stove bookmarked the long counter, dimpled in the center by the sink.  The dishwasher consisted of the sink full of soapy water, two hands and a dish rack on the edge of one counter.   
  
Logan’s cabin wasn’t much more technologically advanced than that, except that he  _had_  figured out how to set it up for wifi in order to stay in touch with the school.  Otherwise, this place was pretty much off the grid, and the old man liked it that way.   
  
“Alright,” he answered with a gruff laugh and shake of his head as he turned back to the skinned and beheaded – because he knew that Kurt wouldn’t want to  _see_  him cut the heads off – rabbits, staring down at them for a second while he determined just exactly how he wanted to cook them.  “Well, you ‘vacation’ all ya want since we don’t have to be back till Christmas mornin’.”   
  
Kurt suddenly peeked over Logan’s shoulder to inspect what Logan had finally started to cut up into pieces.  His nose crinkled slightly but only because he knew it would earn him a grumpy ‘Hmph’ from his lover – which it did – then he grinned, kissed Logan’s jaw and moved over to the portable CD player they’d brought with them because sometimes Kurt just couldn’t handle the complete quiet of nature.   
  
“Rabbit stew?” he asked, darting a look back over to Logan before he turned his attention back to the player and shuffled through the CDs they’d brought with them.  There were quite a few burned compilations, too, and Kurt plucked one of those out of the bunch, clicked it into the player and turned it on.   
  
Logan assumed that Kurt eyed him, and he nodded, but when only the music answered his response, he said, “Yeah...rabbit stew.  Easiest thing to fix tonight, and it’ll be hearty.  It’ll...”   
  
Kurt  _knew_  what Logan was going to say next...  
  
“...put hair on our chests.  Like  _men_ .”   
  
He rolled his eyes as the first drumbeats and trumpets and orchestral accompaniment hailed the beginning of the first song on the CD, then he turned to help Logan with the potato peeling and carrot chopping, pulling out the veggies and a knife.  He started paring the spuds over the trashcan.   
  
“Mein Lieb,  _chest hair_  is probably the  _one thing_  you and I most definitely do  _not_  need,” Kurt chided as he peeled and cut up the first potato, the wedges plunking into the empty pot while Liza and a fella named Alan filled the space behind them with song.   
  
 _I really can’t stay_  
 _Liza, it’s cold outside_  
 _I’ve got to go ‘way_  
 _But Liza, it’s cold outside..._  
  
Logan ‘hmphed’ again, and while Kurt filled one pot with the vegetables, he tossed the pieces of rabbit into another, wanting to boil them up a little before adding them and the broth to the other pot.  “Onions are in the bottom drawer of the fridge, Elf,” he told his fuzzy blue lover.  This was very domestic, the two of them fixing a meal together with a fire and Christmas music playing in the background.  When did he become so tame?  Once all the meat was in the other pot, he ran water into it, lit the burner on the stove and set the pot down over the flame he adjusted, and when Kurt hadn’t made a move yet to retrieve the onion, Logan did it himself, checking over the rest of their food before he shut the door.   
  
“And besides,” Kurt segued back to an earlier comment Logan made.  “...we told them that we’d be back on Christmas Eve, not morning.”   
  
That earned the younger mutant the roll of the older’s eyes, then Logan scratched his chest through the flannel shirt, and he eyed the fridge once more until he tugged it open and grabbed two beers.  He popped the cap of one against the edge of the counter and drank half of it down before he repeated the process,  _sans_ drinking it, with the second bottle.  Logan set that one next to Kurt then poked a fork at the rabbit chunks, watching the water come to a slow, rolling boil.   
  
“Just because Emma thinks it’s funny to let the youngest kids pounce all of us awake doesn’t mean it  _is_ ,” grumped Logan as he poked the rabbit pieces again, as if he thought they should have cooked already.   
  
Kurt just smirked and peeled the onion, dropping all the remains into the trash before he cut it up into chunks and tossed them into the pot with the potatoes and carrots.  He knew the routine by now; this wasn’t the first cabin get-away he’d come on with Logan, and this wasn’t the first stew they’d made together.  After the rabbit was done, Logan would pull the meat from the bone, toss it back into the pot with the stock with the veggies followed by herbs and spices to boil up until they were soft enough.  After that, the touch of heavy cream and flour would be added to simmer and thicken, and one of them tossed the frozen biscuits into the oven while they waited.  It was cozy, it was comfortable.   _It is our relationship,_  Kurt thought as he set the pot of the veggies aside and looked back at Logan, trying not to laugh while the man just...poked at the damned rabbit pieces.   
  
“It’s not going to cook faster if you’re poking it,” the blue mutant retorted as he made sure that all the peels and carrot ends wound up in the trash.   
  
Logan snorted.  “Don’t know why.  You heat up pretty fast when I’m pokin’ ya.”   
  
That was when Kurt forgot all about returning to the aforementioned children pouncing them in their bed on Christmas morning, all thoughts of what was pure and innocent and should be nurtured for as long as possible dissipating into the steam lifting from the pot of cooking meat.  “You’re a dirty old man, Logan,” he told his lover and sauntered over to the living room, plopping down onto the ancient but comfy bright green-and-burnt orange couch that his fur clashed with like a fashion  _faux pas_ .  He had no idea what Goodwill Logan bought this at – or had he bought it new in the 70s and willingly  _chose_  this particular color scheme – and if so, what were the other color combinations like that  _this_  was the preferable choice?   
  
Kurt repeated, “Dirty.  Old.  Man,” and his tail’s spade-tip tapped the air as if it was dotting periods at the end of each word.   
  
The undulation of that fifth – or was it sixth? – appendage was  _just_  seductive enough so that Logan, when looking back at the younger mutant, chuckled but felt tempted to just let the meat boil until it was as dry as paper while he did some pouncing of his own.  
  
                                                                                             ♦ ♦ ♦   
  
Hours later, the stew was eaten and the leftovers stored in the fridge, and bowls and spoons were washed up and left in the rack to dry.  Even the remaining biscuits had been covered in honey as an impromptu dessert, and for once, the honey had stayed on the spoon and bread instead of being drizzled over skin and fur.  The whole cabin was scented in woodsmoke, rosemary and thyme, and now cinnamon and apples filled the air from hot cider, which the men had taken outside with them where they could sit on the wooden swing on the porch to the right of the door.   
  
For as far as the eye could see, there was a white blanket stretched across the earthen bed, interrupted only by the copse of trees huddling around the clearing that cradled the cabin.  Above them, the sky arced for miles in a convex of blackness that only the stars winked out a pattern across.  In the distance, owls called out their whereabouts, but even Kurt’s ability to see in the darkness couldn’t make out much more than the shapes of silver-gray branches under the barest sliver of the ebbing crescent moon.  He snuggled his body closer to Logan’s until his head rested on one broad, flannel-clad shoulder, his arm stretched across his lover’s chest, hand resting over that steady beating heart.   
  
“S’beautiful,” rumbled Logan, and he tightened his arm around Kurt’s shoulders, turning his head to nuzzle his lips into those wavy black locks.  He rested his cheek against the younger mutant’s head then let his eyes close for a moment, breathing in the cold, stinging air.   
  
“Ja.  It is,” Kurt whispered, staring out at the snow and trees.  He felt Logan’s knuckle underneath his chin, tilting his face up until their eyes and lips met, and he kissed his lover’s breath onto his tongue with the flavor of supper and beer and honey.   
  
They kissed like this through the span of a dozen heartbeats then finally tugged apart so that Kurt could catch his breath.  Both men were left with silly smiles, but it was Logan who groused first to break the mood.   
  
“Are you sure we’ve gotta go back early just to let those kids wake us up at the asscrack of dawn?”  
  
Kurt  _tsked_  at the slight whine he heard in Logan’s voice, and he cupped a three-fingered hand against the older man’s cheek.  Instead of answering his lover with a direct  _yea_  or  _nay_ , his grin became obnoxious and he said, “You know, mein Lieb, it wasn’t that long ago that you were expecting a bundle of joy to have around at Christmas.”  His yellow eyes sparkled even as he rubbed Logan’s tummy, laughing when that growl rumbled from the older mutant.   
  
“Ya know, Elf...I coulda gone the whole damned time we were here without Emma’s little lesson being brought up,” Logan snarled but was quickly hushed up again by Kurt’s mouth on his and those sharp white teeth nipping at him with an impish purr.  
  
They’d forgotten the mistletoe, but it seemed as if they didn’t need it after all.


End file.
